Eric's Wish Pt 2
by hearttorn
Summary: Sookie has some questions after Eric makes his big request. Follows "Eric's Wish."


_Sookie, I love you. You give meaning to my whole existence. I want to ask you to accept the only true gift I have to give. I want you with me for eternity, my love. Every night when I wake up, every morning when I go to sleep, I want you in my arms. I don't expect you to answer now, it's a big thing to consider. I have a big trunk, my love. I will spend the rest of your life waiting for an answer._

She looked at me, eyes large and clear blue, as if she was seeing me for the first time. I knew how she felt about being one of us. I knew she loved the sun, loved her morning coffee. How could I ask her to give these up? I was expecting these arguments. I also knew she loathed the violence of our world, our ways. It is a lot to ask, I am not unaware. I was startled when she spoke.

How would this work? she asked me. Feeding is so ingrained with sex to us, and as much as I am possessive of her, so she is of me. She does not want to share any more than I do. I hid a tiny smile. She is being practical, but she is considering my request. I explain that, while the two are closely related, they can be separated. One can learn to distance them. Especially if one is as old as I am, and if one is newly born and it is all you know, like she would be. I would be there with her, teaching her everything. After she fed, any other impulses she had I would be more than happy to fulfill. I gave her my signature grin. She blushed a bit. How is it that the sight of her cheeks blushing never ceases to grip my non-beating heart, squeeze it so? And yet, if she grants my request, I will never see her blush anymore. A small price to pay for eternity, but I will miss it forever.

Next she asked if what would happen if she lost her telepathy. I was puzzled. While it is a benefit, its not what makes up the essence of her. I dont really care, I replied. If you do, you do. You will still be you. Your gift is not what makes you who you are, its just, what is the expression? Icing on the cake. She gave a small smile.

Would you call me? she asked. As my maker? Why would I need to? I replied. I want you by my side for eternity. I shouldnt have to call you. But, in the traditional sense, no, I will not call you as I call Pam, or tell you to do things as a maker does. I am asking you this as your mate, not to control you. I want you to _want_ to be by my side. If you want, we can marry once you are turned, if that will make you feel more like we are equals. I would marry you now if it were legal, my love.

She paused and seemed to be thinking over how to frame her next question. Finally, she asked, what if she was not the vampire Pam or I was? What if she could not kill as we did, was not as able to be ruthless or calculating? I answered that the circumstances of the times in which we were turned determined who Pam and I were, who we became. Or rather, who I was and how I molded Pam. We had to become ruthless to survive. Things were different now. She did not have to become so detached as she could still see her family and friends. She did not have to live in the shadows as we did. Things were not as violent now. There was still violence, yes, but much less. She could be exactly the vampire she wanted to be, and I would love her and be proud of her, as would Pam. We had both said what a magnificent vampire she would make. This seemed to please her a bit.

She sat and seemed lost in thought for a while. I sat next to her on the bed and simply waited. She almost seemed to fold into herself as she pulled her legs up onto the bed and tightly wrapped her arms around them, resting her head on her knees. We sat like this for some time. I felt myself slip into what she called downtime. Finally, she moved off the bed and onto the floor, looking into the trunk of items I had collected. I watched her finger the napkins from Fangtasia and Merlottes. She laughed softly to herself as she flipped through the photos I had stolen of her from various places. In sundresses, in bathing suits, on beaches, in a car with her bare feet propped on the side mirror out the open window. I hated that I would never know for myself, with my own eyes, how her skin glowed in the sun.

Carefully, she rolled the glass from Dallas between her fingers. I really kept this? she asked. I nodded. I kept it because even then, I wanted some part of you, some piece of you, and it was all I could have at the time. Like the bullet, she said. Exactly, I agreed. Suddenly she stood. Let me think about it. And she strode out of the room.

I can live with that. Its not a no.


End file.
